Paris In the Snow
by Lissa Rae
Summary: Jamie and Claire reconnect during a snowstorm.


Claire pushed aside the heavy drapes, then opened the window to look down on the street below. It had started snowing rather hard last night, and several feet of snow had accumulated. Everything was silent this early in the morning, covered in a blanket of white. The air was crisp and cool, and felt like a healing balm to her. Their room still smelled of smoke from the fire the night before, and she was overly warm from both the fire and from sleeping next to Jamie, who radiated heat.

She looked over at her husband, still sleeping, and smiled. He looked so innocent in sleep, his eyelashes kissing his cheeks, a slight smile curving his lips. Soon, the day would begin and he would be carried off to do the multitude of things he did every day, but right now, in the silence and still of the morning, she could pretend it was just the two of them in the entire world.

On a day like today, Claire wished they had no obligations to do anything. No secrets to ferret out of the king, no wine to sell, no plotting to save Scotland. She wished they could just spend the day, cozy in the library together, reading and playing chess. Or in bed - just the notion of that seemed like a decadent indulgence.

As she sat staring out the window, Jamie started to stir, and Claire had a wicked thought. Before she had a chance to talk herself out of it, she scooped up a handful of snow from the windowsill, packed it into a decent sized ball, and threw it at her husband, hitting him square in the face. By the time he'd cleared his eyes, she'd closed the window and was sitting across the room, reading by the fireplace.

"What the…" he sputtered, just before noticing Claire. "Sassenach," he growled. "That was a very bad idea."

She looked up at him, trying her hardest to affect an air of innocence. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she said. "And frankly, I'm insulted that you would accuse me of doing something so rude and underhanded."

Jamie grinned. "I haven't accused you of anything yet, although I notice that book ye're reading is upside down," he said, a dangerous glint in his eye. "But now that you mention it…" he trailed off, then lunged across the room to grab her round the waist. Dragging her with him, he moved to the window, opened it back up, and dumped a handful of snow down her shift.

"Jamie!" she screamed, trying to squirm away from him. Unfortunately, his grip was good and his determination high. After one more handful, this one pressed against the back of her neck, he pushed the rest of the snow off the ledge, closed the window again, and carried her to bed.

"Come, Sassenach," he murmured. "I'm cold.

***

An hour later, they both lay in bed, listening to the whisper of the falling snow outside. "Stay home," Claire said, as Jamie got up. He glanced towards the window, the previously cleared snow being quickly replaced, then shrugged.

"Alright," he agreed. "The snow's deep enough that I wouldn't be able to get to Versailles anyway." He leaned over, still unclothed, to restart the fire, and Claire enjoyed the view for a moment. "I don't think we'll have too many people stopping by, either," he added. Finishing up at the fireplace, he returned to the bed, snuggling up against Claire. "What shall we do instead, Sassenach?" he asked, a twinkle in his eye as he blinked lasciviously at her.

Claire laughed. It had been a long time since they'd spent the whole day in bed - it seemed like years since their brief honeymoon. Had it really only been a few months ago? So much had happened since that day, less than a year ago, that she came through the stones. But she never regretted staying with Jamie. He was her life now, and she was so at peace with him.

"Well, I suppose we could just stay in bed all day," she teased him. "Although people may think we've died in the night and come to check on us," she added.

Jamie grinned. "Oh, I imagine they'll hear us before they burst in on anything untoward. Plus," he added, "the door has a lock."

Blushing, Claire glared at him. "I hope what you're suggesting is that you're the one they'd hear," she ground out as he rolled her on top of him. "Because I certainly am not that loud."

"Yes dear," he laughed, while doing something rather untoward and eliciting a very audible gasp from Claire. "Whatever you say."

***

They finally emerged late that afternoon, in search of sustenance. After receiving a quite disapproving look from Madame Vionnet, as well as a plate of food, they retired to the study, where Jamie went over the ledgers from the last week and Claire pretended to read. She would have been more successful, had she not been stealing glances at her husband every few minutes. Finally, he sighed and put down his quill.

"What is it, Sassenach? Ye've not turned the page in ten minutes," he observed. "And ye've hardly touched the food. Are you feeling alright?"

She smiled. "I'm fine. I was just thinking that you looked so domestic sitting there, going over the accounts. Not at all like the wild young man whom I had to patch up twice the night I met him."

He laughed. "Aye, I'm near respectable now. I don't know how you put up with it," Jamie teased.

"Oh, I make do," Claire replied, going to sit on his lap. "It helps that, on occasion, you still let the wild man out." She reached up and pulled out the thong that had been holding his fiery hair back. "Ah, yes, there he is," she murmured, leaning forward to kiss him gently. "There's my wild man."

Luckily, the study door had a lock.


End file.
